Lingering Traces
by Midnight Lupus
Summary: The Other Side has left a bit of a mark on Lucy, and Lockwood sees some of the aftermath. Fluff ensues.


"Lockwood, I think Lucy wants you." George Cubbins poked his tousled head around the sitting room doorway, taking in the boy who was stretched out in his normal armchair with a cup of tea steaming on the side table.

The agent in question looked up from his morning paper and frowned, forelock of hair flopping into dark eyes. "Beg pardon?"

George shuffled into the room, itching his backside, which Lockwood chose to ignore. "Well, I was just out on the landing- had to use the bathroom- and I could hear her up there. She was asking for you." He furrowed sandy eyebrows. "Though why she can't just come down here herself is a mystery."

Lockwood folded his paper and stood, taking a moment to straighten his favorite robe over his pyjamas. He was still exhausted from his foray into the other side, and the bags under his eyes were evidence of the stress his body had undergone. "Any idea what she wants?"

"Not a clue." George parked his rear in his own chair before plying himself to the remaining half of a doughnut that was left from the day before. "Sounded upset though." His eyes were cautious behind glass lenses. The boy had kept a careful eye on his two best friends, making sure they ate and got rest. George was sure that he was driving them insane, but after the sheer terror of thinking the both of them were dead he wasn't about to ease up. It was taking a long time for his friends to recover and he was quite content to stick close to them.

"Alright." Lockwood turned and, in true Lockwood fashion, bounded up the stairs two at a time, passing the first landing and continuing up towards the attic room that Lucy inhabited.

Even though Lockwood and Co. was a small establishment, he knew that many of the other agencies didn't understand why his two operatives actually lived with him. As far as Lockwood was concerned, it was the perfect setup. His house was large, and empty, and it was more efficient to have his agents in the same place as their supplies so that they could interview clients, prepare for a case, and leave with all haste. Of course, it also didn't hurt to have the two most important people in his life under his own roof...where he could keep an eye on them and make sure they were safe.

As Lockwood made his way up the last set of stairs he began to hear one of those people in question.

"Lockwood! Lockwood!"

George had been right, she did sound upset. The boy paused on the landing; she sounded less than happy, but she also didn't sound like she was talking to him. Her tone was disjointed, not conscious or present.

"Lockwood!" A pause, and then. _"Anthony!"_

Now _that_ galvanized him into action. Not only did she sound upset, but Lucy _never_ called him Anthony. No one but 'Penelope' Fittes did that, and he wasn't really fond of her taking that liberty in the first place.

Taking the last staircase in a few leaps, Lockwood threw open the door to the attic bedroom.

Lucy was in the dark. An endless, black sky stretched overhead into nothingness, unlit by moon or stars. The ground was cold and frost covered, crackling beneath her boots as she and Lockwood hurried back to the massive group of sources and chain that would lead them back to where they had come from: their own world. They were lost though, scrambling through the night and avoiding trees and brambles as they attempted to escape the ghostly parade following them. Lockwood's warm hand slid from hers as Lucy tripped and went sprawling, tearing her spirit cape on a briar and feeling the garment being ripped from her shoulders.

Instant cold assaulted her, paralyzing her lungs and muscles as her vision went dark around the edges. She whimpered as ice crept up her skin.

"Here!" Warmth was around her, and she stood shakily. "Go, GO!" Urged by his voice she took off, breath returning in rasping inhalations.

Moments later she realized that Lockwood wasn't behind her, and she turned to search for him. "No!"

He hadn't replaced her own cape as she had thought, he had given her his, and now the boy was doubled over on hands and knees, gasping for air with dark eyes wide. Frost had already crept up over the long coat, and the forelock of hair that flopped into his eyes was stiff with icy rime.

"Lockwood!" She ran to him, skidding to her knees and fumbling to untie the spirit cape, but the knot wouldn't come loose. Frantically Lucy tried to spread it over him, to cover them both, but the fabric with its silver links was frozen to her. "Lockwood!" He was bone pale, lips turning blue in the merciless cold.

"Go." The chill had reduced Lockwood's voice to a hoarse whisper.

"No! I can't-take the stupid cape back, Lockwood!" She tore at it with her hands, trying to pry the cloth away.

He coughed, a few drops of scarlet dotting the white earth. "Lucy, go." One hand rose to stiffly push at her. She was shocked at how feeble the motion was.

"I'm not leaving you here!" The sound of ghosts approaching was a low buzz in her mind. "Come on!" He slumped sideways and she reached out to catch him, pulling his limp form into her lap in an attempt to warm his frigid body. "Lockwood!"

Lockwood's dark eyes focused in on her as his narrow chest heaved in a desperate search for oxygen. "Luce.."

"Get up. You're coming with me." His cheek was like ice against her gloved hand. "Lockwood?" There wasn't any response, and she looked wildly around, seeing the army of ghosts approaching. Gazing down, Lucy saw that his eyes had closed, frost glittering on his long eyelashes. "Lockwood?" His chest had stilled, head lolling in her lap. A yawning abyss opened in her center, bringing bright agony that flared against her heart and mind. This couldn't be happening, not like this, not right after she'd agreed to rejoin the agency and after he'd been so happy. _'You keep me safe.'_ His voice echoed in her mind. She shook him, "Lockwood!" There was nothing. The ghosts were closing in around her, but Lucy barely noticed them. _"Anthony!"_ Her first time using his name, but he didn't even hear her.

"Lucy! Lucy wake up!"

With a gasp Lucy shot upright in bed, eyes wild and face flushed. Looking frantically around, she seemed to take in her surroundings before noticing that there was a warm hand on her shoulder and a concerned face a foot away from hers.

"Lockwood?" It was him. Solid, disheveled, _alive_ , him. Lucy crumpled in on herself, resting her head in her hands.

"Right here, Luce." There was a dip in her bed as he perched on the edge of the mattress. "I'm right here."

She was silent for several long moments, unsure of what to say; shame burned her ears. Finally she spoke. "I was yelling...wasn't I.."

"Only a little." His grin was cheerful when she looked up to meet his eyes. Growing more serious, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I dream about it too...the other place." His dark gaze was haunted for a moment. "All the time."

Lucy sighed heavily. They had been trying to be more honest with one another since the Rotwell incident. "I tore my cape, but you...we didn't share yours. You gave it to me.. I tried to give it back, but it wouldn't come off and…"

"Ah…." She watched as Lockwood seemed to withdraw for a moment, his dark brows furrowing into a frown that Lucy had a sudden, inexplicable urge to smooth away. She could see his thoughts ticking behind his eyes; he couldn't deny that if the situation had called for it he wouldn't have given her his own cape. He also knew that fear of something along those lines happening was what had caused her to leave all those months ago.

At last he looked up and offered a crooked smile that did a strange sort of flip-flopping thing to her stomach. "Well… it didn't happen that way, Luce. We shared the cape, and we both made it out alive and reasonably unharmed. Right?" Lockwood gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Right.." Lucy took a deep breath. "Right, we did. We're here, in my room, safe."

A greenish glow brought their attention to the windowsill, where the skull was making faces at them through the silver-glass.

"Fat lot of good you did. You could have woken me up." She glared at it as Lockwood snorted.

 _Hey, for all I know you could have been having a good dream. All I heard was 'Lockwood!'_ The spirit flipped its voice into falsetto. _'Lockwood? Anthony?' I didn't realize you were on a first name basis with longshanks here._

Heat flared in Lucy's cheeks. "I did _not_ call him Anthony!" Looking over to the boy in question, she winced. "Did I?"

Lockwood suddenly took an interest in the knee of his pyjamas. "Well..er.. In your defense, it is my name, so it isn't like you called me 'ignoramus' or 'slug' or anything."

Lucy groaned in embarrassment, "Ugh. Well, thanks for waking me up, Lockwood. You go on downstairs, I'll just...crawl into a corner now."

"Nonsense," Cheerful again, he clapped her on the back. "We need those corners to put Kipps in when he misbehaves."

"You're not putting him in _my_ room!"

"I will if you hide up here."

"You wouldn't dare!" Lucy flung her pillow at him as he stood up and chuckled.

"C'mon, Luce. I'm just crazy enough to do it." Lockwood gave her a fond smile as she grinned up at him, her pyjamas rumpled from sleep. "There now, that's better. That's the Lucy I know." Nodding, he turned and headed back towards her door. "I'll see you downstairs. There's tea waiting for you, and maybe a biscuit if you get down quickly enough."

"George better save one for me or I'll put _him_ in a corner."There was another dry chuckle as her door shut.

 _Awwwwwww, how sweet of him._

"Shut up, skull." Lucy stood, "There are lots of corners in this house."

 _Oh come now, wouldn't you rather find one to snog Lockw-."_

"That is quite enough of that!" She twisted the valve on the jar shut, throwing a handkerchief over it for good measure.

Outside on the landing, Lockwood took a moment to stop and breathe. He didn't quite know how to feel about the strange tugging his stomach had done when Lucy had said 'Anthony'...


End file.
